


A Series of Darks and Lights, Perpetually

by pyrebi



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children, Alternate Universe - Human, Child Abandonment, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-02
Updated: 2010-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrebi/pseuds/pyrebi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Officer John Winchester is just doing the normal rounds when he sees that neighbor kid Gabriel hiking his way outta town.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Series of Darks and Lights, Perpetually

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hugglewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=hugglewolf).



> Written for [](http://hugglewolf.livejournal.com/profile)[**hugglewolf**](http://hugglewolf.livejournal.com/) over at [](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/profile)[**comment_fic**](http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/) for [this prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/comment_fic/164956.html?thread=35772252#t35772252).
> 
> Very, very AU.

John's just doing the rounds when he sees the kid trudging down the side of the road outta town. He slows the cruiser to a crawl, watches the kid's back stiffen as he pulls up alongside.

 

"Everything okay here, bud?" John asks, trying for _friendly._

The kid, scrawny and with hair just a shade too long, flicks a glance his way, face set into something unbelievably grim. "Yup. Just fine," he replies, a forced nonchalance weaving its way through the words.

"Gabe?" John blinks. "Gabriel Angelo?"

" _Shit,_ " the kid hisses under his breath. Then, turning fully to the car, he smiles. "Hey, Officer Winchester. What's up?"

"Not much, Gabe, not much," John just smiles right back, but he's quickly assessing the situation. The Angelos--three boys and a girl, and at around eleven Gabriel's the second-oldest--live up the street from his family. But Gabriel's several miles from their neighborhood in the firefly-lit night, headed toward the highway with a suspiciously full backpack slung over his shoulders. The whole situation screams _runaway_ so loud that John's having a hard time keeping up the charade. "Where you off to?"

"Just visiting a friend," Gabriel replies, shuffling forward again. "Really gotta get going."

"Gabe," John warns, dropping the pretenses. "It's dangerous out here. You need to get in the car and come back to the station with me. I'm sure your family is worried sick."

Gabriel tenses, looks off into the dark like he's thinking of just trying to make a break for it.

"I'm serious," John says. "C'mon, we'll call and have somebody pick you up."

"Yeah right," Gabriel growls, but he stomps over to the passenger side of the cruiser anyway and slides in.

\--

John sits Gabriel down in an extra chair and fetches him a hot chocolate and a pack of crackers from the vending machines. He pulls up the number for the Angelo household and gives it a ring.

The first indicator he has that something is very, very wrong is that the call never goes through. A tinny voice tells him that the number is no longer in service. John frowns.

"Gabe," he asks. "Do you know why your phone at home might not be working?"

"No," Gabriel replies, licking the last of the peanut butter from the cellophane, the crackers utterly gone. "That's strange."

John frowns. "You still hungry, bud?"

"Dying," Gabriel grins. "What else you got?"

John brings him back a Twix bar and a bag of Doritos. He rests his elbows on his desk and watches Gabriel devour the snacks as if it's the first thing he's eaten in a week.

\--

John gets off at midnight and he packs Gabriel into the car with him, headed for their neighborhood. The kid won't look at him, just stares at his fingers pulling the worn-out cotton of his jeans into nervous bunches.

John drives right past his own house, past the warm light in the living room where Mary's up reading, waiting for him to get home. He goes down half the block and eases into the Angelo driveway, throws the car into park, and steps out. The house is dark and quiet, but the front door swings open before they've even stepped all the way onto the porch.

Michael, the oldest boy, is standing in the entryway, looking absolutely furious. He's about thirteen and skinny as a rail, skinnier than your average scrawny thirteen-year-old boy, but it doesn't seem to make him any less terrifying in his righteous wrath when he hisses at Gabriel, "You tried to _run away!_ "

"So what if I did?" Gabriel snarls back.

Michael steps through the doorway and seizes Gabriel's shirt, yanking him out from behind John. "You selfish little punk, Anna and Cas were freaking out all night." John watches as Gabriel flinches and looks down, and Michael's chin juts out like he's just won some sort of battle.

John hasn't even said anything yet when Michael twists Gabriel's arm so the younger boy is standing behind his brother, shielded from John. "Thanks for bringing him back, Officer Winchester," Michael says, a fixed-looking smile appearing on his face. "Dad was just about to call the police--you have really great timing."

"No problem, Mike," John shrugs. "Say, where is your dad? I'd like to talk to him for a minute."

Gabriel stares at him from behind Michael's shoulder, something defiant in his eyes. Michael just keeps up the smile, but it's growing a bit brittle around the edges. "Oh, he's just gone to bed. He's got the early shift tomorrow, so I'd hate to wake him up."

"Well, if it's all the same, I'd like you to anyhow," John says, watching Michael grow more and more tense. "It's kinda important."

"He's not here," Gabriel blurts when his brother hesitates for a moment. "He's been gone for forever. We've been by ourselves."

"You little asshole!" Michael screeches, twisting Gabriel's arm in a totally unexpected explosion of rage that has the younger kid yelping in pain. "You little _fuck!_ They'll split us up! That's what they do, they split kids up!" John steps in, grabs Michael's shoulder and pulls him none-too-gently off of Gabriel, but the kid just keeps spitting his anger at his little brother, trying to swing at him with tightly-balled fists. "They'll take away Cas and Anna and we'll never see them again! Jesus, _fuck!_ You tried to run away, you little shit, and then you tell? I hate you! I _hate_ you!"

John's holding Michael with both hands heavy on the kid's shoulders. Gabriel is pressed against the doorframe, his lip bleeding where one of Michael's blows caught him, looking absolutely terrified. Hot tears had started to course down the older boy's face about halfway through his tirade, and now that John's got him immobile, he totally breaks down. Snot and tears are everywhere, the kid crying with great broken hiccups of sobs. If anything, this seems to freak Gabe out even more.

John is nothing if not prepared. He fishes into one of the pockets in his uniform and pulls out a little travel pack of Kleenex. He offers one to Michael, who crumples it into a tiny ball and bashes it up against his face like he's trying to punish himself for his outburst. John hands another to Gabriel for his lip, and the younger boy takes it warily, like he's afraid any sudden movement might start Michael off again.

"Mike, how long has your dad been gone?" John asks softly once Michael's calmed down to just wretched, embarrassed sniffling.

"I dunno," the kid whispers. "Couple of months? Since just after Christmas, I think."

John reels. "Just after...jesus, Mike, that was six months ago! Who's been looking after you guys?"

"He has," Gabriel says, and Michael looks away, out toward the road. "He's been doing everything since Dad went away."

"Oh, bud," John sighs, squeezing Michael's shoulder gently. The boy swallows roughly.

Once Gabriel gets to talking, he doesn't shut up. He tells John about how they went through all the food in the house and then all the money they could find, about how for the months of April and May they'd been living off of nothing but school-provided meals, about how there was nothing to eat now that school was out for the summer. How they'd been taking the bus to the park to fish money out of the fountains to buy jars of peanut butter and manager's-special loaves of bread. How Michael had outgrown his last pair of shoes and they'd had to find some new ones in the trash. How they'd tried to pawn some of the stuff in the house but the broker wouldn't deal with kids. How Cas never stopped crying for their father. And, finally, how he himself had tried to get away--but whether it was to try to find their dad or just to _escape_ he doesn't say, and John thinks maybe the kid doesn't quite know himself. The entire time he's talking, Michael just keeps curling in on himself, tighter and tighter.

John shakes his head. "All right. We'll get this sorted out. And nobody's splitting you guys up," he adds, squeezing Michael's shoulder again. "You're all staying at our house tonight. Let's go get your brother and sister."

Gabriel nods silently and vanishes into the dark mouth of the house.

"I'm sorry for cussing so much," Michael says as he steps forward, looking at the ground. "I didn't mean to."

John laughs. "It's okay, sport. Really." He walks into the house and gropes for a lightswitch. He flicks it, but nothing happens.

"Power's been off for months," Gabriel's voice says from somewhere to his left. "We couldn't pay the bills."

"Okay. All right," John says, keeping a tight lid on the rising anger in his chest. These poor damn kids. "Where are the littler ones?"

"Here," Gabriel says, reaching out and pulling on John's sleeve. They wind their way down the hallway, Michael following like a shadow.

They enter what was probably the master bedroom. Light from the streetlamps outside filters through the curtains, and now that his eyes have adjusted, John can make out two tiny bodies sitting on the king-sized bed.

"You're back!" Anna cries at Gabriel, sliding off the bed and running over to him. "We thought you'd left like Dad."

Gabriel slumps a little and wraps his arms around her. "M'sorry," he mutters into her hair.

"Sokay," Anna sighs. "Just don't run off without us again."

"Anna, Cas," Michael says, stepping forward. "Officer Winchester is taking us to his house for tonight. Get your stuff."

Anna scurries around filling up a green backpack with some clothes from the floor and a few random toys, all the things a seven-year-old girl deems crucial, but the youngest boy--Cas--just sits on the bed and stares at them.

"I got his things, Mike," Gabriel says, and shoves a few items in a knapsack. Michael holds out a hand and Anna drifts over and takes it, standing next to him quietly.

John minces his way through the detritus of children's lives to the bed and picks up Cas. The boy is light, frighteningly light. He's roughly the same age as John's own boy Dean, but that's where the similarities end. Cas doesn't make a sound when John lifts him, just tilts his head and looks at him with the unfathomable expression of a young traumatized kid.

Gabriel snags Anna's other hand and they file out of the dark house like the world's most pathetic parade, trailing dirty backpacks and a couple of toys. When they all get out to the porch, Michael pauses and drops Anna's hand to pull out a key on a cord around his neck. He locks the front door painstakingly, shaking the handle twice to make sure it's secure. John watches him and doesn't say a word. Cas buries his face in John's neck and sighs.

They get into the car, Gabriel and Anna in the back, Michael with Cas on his lap in the front with John. It's just a quick coast back down to the Winchester house, and soon John is herding the kids into the warm, bright entryway.

"Mary?" he calls. "Mary, c'mere, babe."

"What's up, John?" his wife calls back, then rounds the corner from the living room. "Oh."

"You know the Angelos, right?" he asks. "Mike, Gabe, Anna, and Cas?"

"Um, yeah," she stutters. "Yeah, of course. From up the street?"

"Yeah. They need to stay over tonight," John says, thanking everything that he happened to marry the greatest woman on the planet--she takes in this news like it's nothing out of the ordinary, just nods slowly with a look in her eyes that says she knows John will explain when he can.

"Great! It'll be like a sleepover," she smiles. "I'll go get the air mattresses from the camping stuff in the basement, how's that? We'll set 'em up in the living room and just make a party of it!"

The kids just look at her, and for a second Mary's smile falters a bit. John tries to make up for it with one of his own. "Sounds great, babe. Just great. Hey, I'm gonna go make the kids some sandwiches, all right? We'll be in the kitchen if you need us."

That's how John finds himself a few minutes later with four skinny kids at his kitchen table while a pot of tomato soup warms on the stove and the griddle heats in preparation for grilled cheese. John's just buttering the bread when an arm wraps around his waist. He looks down to see Dean wrinkling his nose at the griddle, hair all mussed from where he'd been sleeping.

"Hey, champ," John says in surprise. "What're you doing outta bed?"

"Noise woke me up," Dean replies sleepily. He looks over his shoulder to the siblings sitting quietly at the table. "Who're they?"

"They're some kids from up the street. They're staying with us tonight. You want a sandwich too, kiddo?"

"Mmhmm," Dean yawns, still clinging to John's waist. He's six this year and hungry as a horse pretty much all the time. Sammy must still be asleep in his crib upstairs or he'd be howling for attention too. Well, thank god for small favors.

"Okay then," John nods. "You wanna help me out and pour some glasses of milk for the other kids?"

"I can do that," Dean agrees, shuffling off to the rack of plastic cups by the sink.

John ends up making second sandwiches for Michael and Gabriel. All of the Angelo kids inhale the food so fast that John's a little worried they'll choke. Dean spends most of the time chattering with Gabriel and Anna and swinging his feet under his chair. He keeps looking at Cas like he can't quite figure out why the other boy is so quiet.

Mary drifts into the kitchen as John is coring apples and pulling out caramel dip for dessert. "Everything's set up," she says. John leans over the counter and pecks a kiss to her lips. Seriously, best woman ever.

In the end, Dean wants to sleep in the living room with the Angelos. Mary says she doesn't care, and before long he's sprawled unconscious with his limbs all tangled up with Cas's. Mary heads upstairs to their bedroom and John takes a moment to flick off the the lights except for one in the dining room, letting a soft glow permeate the living room. As he's getting ready to head upstairs, though, Michael unwraps himself from Gabriel and pads over.

He stands ramrod straight but looks down at the carpet instead of at John. "Thanks, Officer Winchester," he says. "It, uh, it means a lot to the little kids, having a hot dinner and stuff."

"I'm sure it does," John agrees amiably. "Hey, Mike? You did a good job, taking care of 'em like you did." He holds out his hand.

Michael looks up for the first time, reaches out and shakes John's hand, the pressure too tight, the grip too crushing--a thirteen-year-old trying desperately to act older, a kid trying to be an adult.

"Get some sleep, man. We'll have pancakes in the morning and talk," John says. "I'm upstairs if you need somebody."

"Okay," Michael whispers, then heads back over to the air mattresses and slides in between Gabriel and Anna.

John stands there a minute and looks at 'em, four strangers and his boy, all just babies. Wasn't right, their dad taking off like that. But, John swears to himself, he'll see this through to a better end.


End file.
